


"Happy Birthday Darling!"

by RogerTaylorCanRawMe



Series: Queen One-Shots [14]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Sex in cars, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Roger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogerTaylorCanRawMe/pseuds/RogerTaylorCanRawMe
Summary: Roger loves to spoil you. Sick of hearing you complain about taking the bus around town, he decides to buy you a car for your birthday. There's just one glaring problem, though, you can't drive. But that doesn't stop him teaching you!





	1. That New Car Smell

**Author's Note:**

> Another Roger fic with a couple of parts because I'm lazy af.

You and Roger had been seeing each other for three years, on and off. You met when you first started university. He was three years older with a wide circle of friends, and an all round troublemaker on campus. When he booked a sell out tour with his band, he quit his course on the spot. He was going to go out with a bang, though. It was love at first sight when he met you at his leaving party. 

Balancing seeing Roger and accompanying him on tour, with your studies was tough. Yet, you and Roger managed to make it work with 'concessions' on either side.

He still cared very much about you. You more than anyone, actually. His way of making up for his absences was to splurge on lavish gifts and holidays for you.

It never sat right with you, him spoiling you like that, but you accepted it. It was all him; his way of showing his love. And you always found yourself thanking him in more ways than one. You cared for him too, after all. 

It was a Wednesday evening. You should have been studying for your final exams. Instead, Roger, ever the distraction, insisted on meeting you for dinner. He was back for a month and he was adamant he was spending most of that with you. You could have done without it. Some other time.

“Sorry I’m late. The bus broke down,” you huffed, blasting into the restaurant and up to Roger. Your clothes dripped, sticking to your skin. Your hair fell flat against your face. And your mascara threatened to streak across your face if you so much as blinked the wrong way. You looked like a drowned rat and you weren’t in the mood for dining out anymore.

Roger was sitting at the table waiting for you, drink in hand. “Just as well I like you,” he laughed, giving you a peck on the cheek. "Christ, you look terrible."

You flung yourself into your seat and sighed. “That bloody bus. It’s the bane of my existence. I swear to god, Rog, I don’t know how much more I can take of it.”

“This is why you should let me pick you up,” he said, draining his glass.

“What and have all my friends fawning over you? Roger Taylor, I love you, but I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

Roger cocked his head and smiled sweetly. “Well why don’t you learn to drive?” he asked. “I’m shocked you can’t.” He reached across the table and took your hands. They were dry and cracked, flecks of paint still adorning your fingernails. A typical art student. 

You shook your head, blinking at him. “I live in London, what use is a car to me?”

Roger admired your hands, running his thumbs over your fingers. Then he placed a kiss on each. “It might keep your hair from going flat in the rain,” he stated, arching his eyebrow, “you never know. Plus, you wouldn't have to get the bus. Ever again.”

“I’d be terrible at driving.” You pulled your hands away from Roger and batted away the suggestion. “And besides, they’re far too much of a hassle. Look at how much you're spending on that beast of your's! I couldn't possibly afford it.”  
Roger shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

Three days later, it was your birthday. You and your friends had laid waste to your flat the night before. You woke up on the living room floor in a heap of bodies and empty bottles, to the sound of a car horn outside. You hauled yourself to your feet and pulled back the curtain. 

Roger.

He stood on the street, looking up at your window.

You flung open the window, poking your head out. “What the fuck are you doing, Rog?”

When the infernal noise of the little red sports car ceased, he waved his hand over it. “Happy birthday sweetheart!”

“I’ll repeat that - what the fuck are you doing, Roger?”

“Make yourself look lovely and get down here. We’re going for a drive in your new car," he said, jutting his finger in your direction.

Fifteen minutes later, hungover and exhausted, you were in the driver’s seat. Roger sat beside you wearing a shit eating grin. All you could muster was confusion.

“It’s absolutely perfect for a learner. It’s tiny, you can park it on a sixpence.”

“It’s lovely, Rog, thank you,” you said, turning to him, “but I can’t drive. I don’t even have a licence.”

“Well, we'll get you a licence,” Roger said, slapping your thigh.

You leaned your head back and glared at him from the corner of your eye. “There’s no backing out of this, is there?”

“Not a chance, darling. I’m sick to the back teeth of hearing you moan about how bad the buses are. So I’ve taken matters into my own hands.”

You ran your hands over the steering wheel, sighing. “Right. Time to make this baby purr.” You turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

“Good,” Roger said, “now, clutch down, left foot…. The pedal on the left.”

Your foot seemed to dart across all three pedals until it rested on the clutch, pushing it to the floor.

“I’ll slip it into first,” Roger continued, putting the car into gear. “Now, I want you to ease the clutch up and give it some gas with your other foot until the car starts to pull. I’ll take care of the handbrake.”

You did exactly as Roger said and sure enough the car lurched forward. The shock of the movement made your foot whip off the clutch altogether. The car sank with a thud. “Fuck, what did I do?” You asked, freaking out.

“It’s alright, you've stalled it. It’s fine. Everybody does it first time,” he said, pulling up the handbrake.

“Did you?”

“Me?” he asked pointing to his chest. “God, no.”

“Ok. So do I just-”

“Start the car again. You focus on your feet, darling, I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Ok.” You sighed. It was going to be a long birthday.


	2. A Welcome Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger continues to teach you how to drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters because it's not NaNoWriMo anymore and I've lost the ability to write more than 1000 words a day. Don't @ me.

“I’m getting the hang of this,” you beamed, gripping the wheel with both hands. The car zig zagged despite your best efforts.

Roger loomed over you, correcting your steering and changing gears. You could feel his breath on your neck. And you could tell he was growing twitchy and impatient. “We’re only at the end of the street, darling,” Roger said with as much calm as he could muster, “foot off the gas, clutch in.”

You did as he said, eyeing your surroundings as cyclists dawdled past in the middle of the road. You recognised a few of your classmates, getting distracted and waving. This caused the car to lurch a little. The car clunked into third gear as Roger did his bit.

“Careful,” Roger reminded you. 

“Sorry,” you muttered as you edged closer to your neighbour’s car parked a few metres in front of you. “How do I stop this thing?”

“Ok, what you want to do is brake and clutch in and I’ll take care of the gears,” Roger said.

You nodded, jabbing your feet on both pedals, causing you and Roger to whip forward in your seats. 

“Gently,” he said. “Brake gently.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” you said mockingly. “I’m not too bad all things considered.”

“Yeah,” Roger said. “Why don’t we go somewhere more quiet so you can practice safely?”

You shimmied out of the car, darting around to the other side. “Ok. Roger. Take the wheel.”

Roger drove with ease. The complete opposite to you. But he had a wealth of experience behind the wheel and the confidence that went along with it. He took you out to the local shopping centre. Fifteen minutes was all it took. It would have taken you the best part of half an hour on the bus. When you arrived, you were glad to find that the car park was almost empty. 

The pair of you swapped sides and once again you were in the driver’s seat. The familiar pit of nerves began to form in your stomach as Roger put his arm around the back of your seat. Outside your flat, this was fine, but here? It was like another world, even if no one else was around.

“Let’s start with going around the car park. I’ll let you do the gears now.”

Your mouth popped open, turning to face Roger. “What? No, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. When the car starts to squeal a bit, clutch down, change up.”

You hesitated, looking down at the gearshift in an attempt to familiarise yourself. Then you looked back at Roger.

“You can do it,” Roger reassured, placing his hand on your thigh.

You gave his hand a squeeze and then turned the key in the ignition. “Ok, let’s give this a go,” you sighed. Handbrake off. Clutch down. In gear. Give it some gas. Go.

The car crept forward and you managed to steer out of the parking space. “Good,” Roger encouraged. “Try taking it around the car park once, remember to do your gears yourself now. Up. Up. Up.”

“Yep,” you said, cranking the gearshift. The screech from the gearbox was ear piercing. The car thudded to a stop. Your heart sank. You tried to change gears without using the clutch. You clamped your hands over your eyes and let out a pained whimper. “I’m terrible at this, Rog. Can’t we just go home?”

“Darling, it's ok,” Roger purred, taking your face in his hands in an attempt to calm you. “Come on, let’s get parked up and take a break.”

You both got out of the car. Roger sat back in the driver’s seat and parked the car while you watched. You felt absolutely miserable, arms folded, pressing your knuckles to your lips. This was far more difficult than Roger made it look. It was irrational, yes, but it frustrated you that after twenty minutes in the car, you couldn't drive it well. 

When the car stopped, you threw yourself into the passenger seat. You didn’t know how much longer Roger’s patience was going to last with this before he flipped and gave up for the day. Your's was wearing dangerously thin too.

He ran his fingers along your jawline and leaned in to give you a delicate kiss. “Are you ok?” Roger asked.

“I think so,” you said, holding on to his hand. “It’s so much to take in.”

“I know, I’m sorry for overloading you. I was so excited to teach you how to do this and I-”

You pushed back, kissing Roger again, cutting him off before the end of his sentence. “It’s perfect, Rog,” you reassured, swiping the hair out of his eyes. “If my head wasn’t all over the place with these exams coming up. I don’t know. Maybe I’d be better. I can’t run before I can walk.”

Roger nodded, leaning in to press his nose to yours. “Baby steps,” he whispered. Roger pulled your shirt, inching you closer to him. His voice was so quiet it sent shivers through you. "Persevere with this. And then... no more buses or walking in the rain." His other hand was busy drawing feathery trails up and down your neck. There was a moment between everything else. His eyes half closed, looking at you through his eyelashes. How could you ever say no to him? How could anyone?

“I adore it, by the way,” you said. It was your go to line about everything he bought you, and everywhere he took you. “It’s so beautiful. Thank you.”

“And you’re going to look even more beautiful driving it,” he said, giving you a quick boop on your nose. 

You giggled, sinking away from him. “You got any plans for the day?” you asked, hoping his only plans pertained to you.

He shook his head, eyes still sleepy as ever.

“I’ve been studying so much, I was just wondering if-”

Roger perked back up at the slight suggestion. “I’d gladly take your mind off of it for a while,” he smirked, leaning back over to you and giving you a slow, deep kiss. When he broke away, his eyes batted to and fro, taking you in for a second. “If you want me to?”


End file.
